Strong as Death
by D. M. Evans
Summary: Holtz and Steven have to battle a demoness who wants to take over Quor-Toth with The Destroyer's help
1. Default Chapter

STRONG AS DEATH

By D. M. Evans

Disclaimer – Steven and Holtz are of course part of the Angelverse and hence the property of Joss Whedon not me. But we all knew that right. Any of the characters and beings you don't recognize, those are mine.

Rating – R

Feedback – yes please (especially interested in people's reaction to something this odd) ripewickedplum2@yahoo.com

Summary – Holtz and Steven run into a very determined demoness who has plans for taking over Quor-Toth with the help of the Destroyer.

CHAPTER ONE

Steven pulled his head wrap tighter against the wind, which left the exposed bits of his skin cracked and oozing in the cold. The wrap stank, the leather half-rotted. Father hadn't had the time to properly tan it before Tsgu demons forced them out of the shack that had been their home for three months.

They had found a decent shelter in a cave system. They were warmer than the surface wracked by Quor-tothian winter winds and it offered protection as well. But food was a problem. Still, Steven usually had little difficulty remedying that.

Steven pointed to a shelf of rock and Spot leapt up onto it. Father had let Steven name the creature when he was a child though he had come to regret his childish simplicity. Father called Spot a dog but she had little resemblance to the dogs of Father's stories. She was knee-high with fangs curving as long as Steven's forearm and nearly as thick from either corner of her mouth. Orange splotches decorated her blue-grey fur where she wasn't covered with thick leather armor-like plates on her back and over her vitals.

Steven knew Spot was some creature Father had gotten as a pup and managed to tame. She was good as a guardian and a hunter. A low rumbling from her gave him warning. He saw what she was looking at, a pile of steaming scat. From the size, he expected it was from a Daemer, an unintelligent creature Father likened to deer. It would feed them for days if he could kill it. The grey matted fur could be cleaned and made into a coat. Steven had outgrown his last one and currently had strips of leather wrapped over his forearms where the sleeves no longer covered.

  
Steven clambered up the rock face and gazed over the scree. The lumbering Daemer was in sight. Of all the things he and Father used for food, the Daemer was his favorite, the meat usually juicy and tender, probably because it was such a slow moving thing unlike many of Quor-toth's denizens. 

Steven whistled softly at Spot and she burst over the rocks at their potential dinner. The Daemer lowered his head trying to impale the 'dog' with its antlers. Spot kept it distracted while Steven got close enough to ram his spear into its chest. Bellowing, the Daemer whirled, dragging the spear out of Steven's hands then turned back the other direction as Spot harried its throat. The spear butt rammed into Steven's stomach, knocking the breath out of him. He stumbled, his boots slipping on the icy rocks. Steven made a wild grab for anything to keep his balance but ended up tumbling down the rocky embankment. He somehow managed to miss any snowy pockets that would have slowed his descent or cushioned him, slamming from one rough boulder to another before finally coming to rest.

He hurt. The scent of blood was in the air and that was never a good thing. He could see splotches of it dotting the snow.  His vision filled with bright spatters of light. His head wrap was gone and his ear was filled with blood. Tentatively he hitched himself up. Nothing seemed broken but that was hardly a surprise. He had taken far worse beatings with nothing getting broken. Father was always amazed at his sturdiness. Still, his scalp was split open, pouring blood like an artesian well. He unwrapped one of his forearm covers and used the fabric to try and staunch the flow of blood as he climbed back up the cliff. The wind chilled his bared skin, numbing it almost instantly. The last thing he'd need would be for something to get his blood scent and come for him. As he climbed, Steven could have sworn something large had flown overhead circling him but when he looked nothing was there.

Finally he made it to the top to see Spot contently gnawing on the throat of the Daemer, which had collapsed at last from the true to the heart stabbing. He shooed his pet away and tied a rope to his kill. The Daemer outweighed him eight or nine times over but he dragged it slowly back home to Father. Nothing picked up their trail, which amazed him since between him and the dead animal they cut a bloody swath in the snow. He glanced around making sure no one was watching then disappeared inside. He missed seeing the pair of golden eyes that watched from overhead.

*                                                          *                                                          *

"Eat, son," Holtz said, putting more Daemer meat on the smooth rock Steven was using as a plate.

"I'm full, Father." Steven cracked the bone he had been gnawing the meat off of and sucked out the rich marrow.

Holtz scowled down at him. "You most certainly are not. You look like death nibbling a crust of bread. Eat more."

Steven rolled his eyes but dug into the meat obediently.

  
Holtz sat back and watched his son. He worried. Not about the long cut and bruises decorating the boy's hips, shoulders and back or the rent in Steven's scalp he had to attend to before butchering and cooking the Daemer.  No, Steven healed too fast to worry about that. He was concerned that the boy didn't pick up weight, no matter how much he ate. While it was good that he was lean and quick, he was so thin Holtz could count his ribs and see the bones of his spine. The Adam's apple he had developed in the last year or so poked out against his skin so badly that it looked like it didn't belong there on a neck otherwise slender and womanly. Holtz wondered about that, how two demons could produce a child so pretty, almost effeminate but tried hard not to think hard on it. It was wrong to do so.

 The best he could do was make sure Steven ate. The boy was wont to hold back, making sure Holtz had the first pick and the most if food was scarce. Holtz was equally determined to give his son the best he could in a place such as this. They had been here fifteen, perhaps sixteen years now and as stunned as he was at the fact they still lived, he was even more shocked at the son he was raising. His parents had been tall, strapping creatures, at least his father had been, but Steven's growth seemed to have ended with that last spurt which outsized him for his winter wardrobe. He was too small. Had they been on Earth, Holtz would have thought him sickly but Steven didn't get ill. He was strong, stronger than any human but Holtz couldn't help but worry over his size.

While Steven stuffed down more dinner to please him, Holtz set about scraping the Daemer's hide. He kept at it until his hands ached. When he looked up, Steven had out the battered Bible Holtz had carried with him in a deep pocket of his jacket. The thing was ridiculously heavy but it was small enough to be carted along. It had been the one given to him at his wedding. He had carried it with him when he fought the demons back in his day, taken it with him into his slumber and had it now. It was the only thing that he had to teach his son to read with. Steven didn't do very well with words but the time they had to dedicate to things such as reading and math were minimal. Time was better spent honing Steven's fighting skills for the day he returned to earth and killed the monster that fathered him.

Holtz set the hide where Spot couldn't get it and went to read over his son's shoulder. He scowled at what he saw.  _'Your rounded thighs are like jewels, the work of a master hand. Your navel is a rounded bowl that never lacks mixed wine. Your belly is a heap of wheat encircled with lilies.' _Holtz eased the book from Steven's hands. Steven looked up at him in surprise, the light from the tallow candle highlighting the fresh bruises and swellings on his son's gaunt face.

"That is not a proper thing for a boy to be reading. Try this." Holtz randomly opened the Bible to something other than the Song of Songs and handed it back. "Read it out loud for me."

Steven peered at it and read, "'Not heeding her plea, he overpowered her: he shamed her and had relations with her. Then Amnon conceived an intense hatred for her, which far surpassed the love he had had for her. 'Get up and leave,' he said to her. She replied, 'No, brother, because to drive me out would be far worse than the first injury you have done me.' He would not listen to her." Steven paused, looking over at Father. "I do not like this one."

Holtz raised an eyebrow. "The book is not there for you to like, Steven. It's a guide on how to live."

Steven looked at the Bible reading more to himself. "But Amnon forces his sister Tamar to have relations with him then throws her out and no one does anything to punish him. Isn't that wrong?"

"Yes." Holtz pursed his lips and took the Bible away, setting it back in the pocket it rode in. "I think it's too late for questions. You need your rest as I do mine."

Steven didn't argue. He went to the shelf of rock he had covered with thick blankets of Daemer hides and curled up. Spot collapsed along the curve of his hip. Holtz got into bed himself, cursing as he always did the ill luck that landed him in this place. What he wouldn't trade for a nice feather tic mattress instead of furs over rock. He blew out the candle, sending them into complete darkness. That was the one drawback of living in a cave, the speed with which they ran through candles. Soon, he'd have to send Steven back into a demonic village to steal more.

"Father, tell me about the ranch in Utah," Steven pled.

Holtz smiled. Every night, Steven asked to hear about the home Holtz had so wanted to give him. Just to keep the story interesting, he often made up new twists and plans. Maybe instead of just he and Justine raising Steven as their son, he would tell his adopted child about the horse farm they had planned or how they would turn the ranch into a home for wayward children. He told a long twist on the story now, hoping as always to hear his son's soft breathing as he slept but it didn't come. He knew Steven was awake in the dark. The older the boy got, the less he slept. Holtz wondered what that meant as he drifted off to sleep.

*                                                                      *                                              *

Vyollca waited at the mouth of the cave for the Destroyer to come back out but as the silver eyes of the triple moons began to rise she knew he was settled for the night. Vyollca launched herself from the top of the tree, her body transforming, losing its humanoid shape, elongating, growing heavier through the shoulders and chest as her wings sprout. Her hands and feet went to claws as her jaw jutted out, full of teeth. 

  
She flapped into the strong winter winds, knowing she could never tell anyone she had seen the Destroyer and not tried to kill him. The Destroyer's head would be a prize to any of the tribes but few even thought to try and collect it. Vyollca thought she could have killed him when he lay dazed after his fall but something stayed her hand. She remembered seeing him for the first time, this summer past. The day had been blistering and she and two of her warriors had planned a raid on a Visi village only to find the Destroyer there with his two companions, a lowly Iler and another creature like the Destroyer himself, only aged. 

The Destroyer had been magnificent. Vyollca couldn't believe the tiny, oddly colored creature could be the one all of Quor-Toth feared but Polinza, her strongest man, assured her she was in fact watching the Destroyer. No fangs, no claw, no armor, no weapons that couldn't be stripped away from him and yet the way he moved was as beautiful as it was deadly. The village ran blue with blood. He slaughtered them all down to the smallest child. She had never seen such cruelty. She had thought her own people, the Alugevy, the unquestioned leading race, were vicious but they couldn't compare to the Destroyer. He was worthy of his name. He hadn't seen her and her men from their roost in the mountain ledge above the village but the Alugevy possessed amazing sight. She could see fish many feet under water even if she was skimming the clouds and she could target them with unerring accuracy. Vyollca could count all of his small ineffectual teeth from her vantage point, estimate his weight, caught the pungent smell of him so unlike anything she had ever scented before. His scent was unpleasant and easy to track.

She hadn't killed him then but only because she was the leader of her tribe and her warriors had been unwilling to risk her. She killed them for their cowardice but by the time that was done the Destroyer and his companions had gone. Vyollca had found him several times since then but never once had she thought to raise a hand to him. She simply watched him, watched him work, watched him kill, watched him play. He seemed to truly enjoy toying with the slukhs. And now, more than ever she knew one thing. She would make the Destroyer hers. She would be queen of the strongest Alugevy tribe in recorded history and the Destroyer would make it so.

Author's Note – the First Bible quote was_ Song of Songs 7:6-9_ and the second was

 2 Samuel 14-16


	2. Sin

Author's Note – This version has been altered to fit the R rating limit. Anyone wanting the full NC-17 version and are over the age limit please contact me direct at crazycat_41397@yahoo.com

CHAPTER TWO

She was beautiful, hair soft and golden, eyes deep, warm and brown. The way those eyes looked at him made Steven's breath come fast and hard. He didn't know what he wanted of her exactly but his body told him things as she swayed to the music in the wind. But there was so much he didn't know, so much Father never told him.

_Kisses of his mouth more delightful is your love than wine_. He could imagine her saying those words but they meant something he didn't quite understand. When he was younger, Father used to kiss him good night but that didn't feel like what he burned to do with his dark eyed beauty. He wanted to taste her. Would she taste like wine, no matter that he didn't know what wine tasted like?

_His left hand is under my head and his right arm embraces me._ Steven whispered those words and his golden beauty lay on the soft grasses, motioning to him to lay with her. He slid his hands around her like he had read. It felt uncomfortable in one way and glorious in another. Her sweet smelling hair spilled over him. _Your hair is like draperies of purple. A king is held captive in its tresses_. Now he understood. He willingly was her prisoner. 

_Who is this that comes forth like the dawn, as beautiful as the moon, as resplendent as the sun, as awe-inspiring as bannered troops_? This woman was that. Steven trembled, afraid and confused. He knew what he wanted but didn't have a clue how it was done. He knew it was a sin but it felt wonderful, even just this small taste of it. The flesh between his legs throbbed. There was incredible pressure in what Father called his sinful parts and he had only a vague idea of how to relieve it. He ground his hips against her and she welcomed it.

_Your very figure is like a palm tree, your breasts are like clusters. I said I will climb the palm tree. I will take hold of its branches. _ Now he thought he knew what this meant. He climbed on top of her. A rock clattered in the distance, followed by a curse.

Steven's eyes flew open, his lover fading away into the dream stuff she was fashioned from. His body ached and not just from the fall the day before. His penis felt like rock, radiating pain. He could see his covers tented up and he flipped to his side, still feigning sleep. His condition was more hidden this way. Spot protested his movement and trundled off his bed. 

He wanted to touch himself to relieve the pressure he felt but it was the wrong thing to do. He had done so once or twice before but Father had caught him. The punishment for such a sin had been severe enough he no longer dared risk it.

Why did his body do this to him? Why did it make him want to sin? Was it because he had two demons as parents? Was he paying for their evil? How was it he could conjure an image of a woman in his dreams? He had never seen a human woman before, at least not that he remembered. He only had his father's descriptions of Justine and Darla and Father's wife and daughter, slaughtered by the demon who had fathered him. Did the evil in him conjure a woman from those remembrances of Father's, twisting purity and love into something wicked and vile?

At least his hardness would abate eventually. Suffering this was better than waking up covered in the sticky white fluid that came from within him in a pleasurable, if immoral, release. Had Father noticed his agitation? He prayed not. He'd get another beating if he had. Steven tried to tell Father that it wasn't his fault. He didn't really want this but he knew that was a lie. He did want it. The times he had brought himself to release had been more pleasurable than anything he had ever felt and he suspected Father knew that. That was why it was a sin and that was why he had been punished more harshly than usual.

"Are you getting out of bed today, Steven?" 

Steven squeezed his eyes shut tight. His body still wasn't under his control but he couldn't let Father know that. "I hurt from falling down the cliff. Might I stay in bed a little longer, Father?" Steven didn't know if that would work. Sloth was a deadly sin and Father wasn't one to let him just be lazy.

"You did get rather battered about," Father said, heading Steven's way obviously concerned. The boy tensed. This was the last thing he wanted. Father would hide him for sure. Luckily Holtz stopped and took up his weapons from the rock shelf serving as a table. "But I didn't think you were hurt that badly."

Steven's hand touched a spot on his hip, pressing into the bruise. This gave true pain to his voice to help convince his father. "Just very sore, Father. I'll be all right."

"Hmmm, yes, well, it is snowing out, not fit for man nor beast." Holtz put a candle in an old bucket that had been cut to reflect the candle's light. "I planned on exploring more of these caves today. I think we can make our way around the land of the Mirevs underground. You can join me down there when you feel up to it. You remember where we left off our mapping."

"Yes." Steven sighed. "Thank you, Father."

"Be sure to eat something, Steven, before you join me. Come along, Spot," Holtz called to their 'dog.' "And Steven, don't lay about all day."

"I won't, Father."

  
Steven listened to his father leaving until he couldn't hear him in the caves any longer. He had hoped his flesh would have gone back to normal but today it refused to cooperate. Worse, he had to pee badly and one thing he knew, that was next to impossible when his body got like this. At least he'd be able to hear Father turning back, the nails in the soles of his sturdy boots always clacked on the rock.

Steven hauled himself out of his bed, his body honestly sore and battered from his fall. He went over to where the small fire they kept banked under a natural chimney was. 

Once his body was back under his control, he was rather horrified to see the huge bruise that covered his hip and sent purple fingers down his thigh and into his penis. No wonder it had hurt so much this time. A thin scab cut across his stomach just above his belly button. The fall had battered him worse than he thought. As he slogged back into the main room to dutifully eat his breakfast, Steven thought he heard something from the mouth of the cave.

It was hard to be certain. They were far enough into the caverns that even with his sharp ears almost no sounds from the surface could be heard. Taking his candle and a sword, Steven made his way to the mouth of the cave. He saw nothing and heard only the wind. Then he saw it there in the yellowish snow, footprints. He knew the shape. He knew it was very bad. Father called them dragons, these demons that could look like a man then change their shape into something that could fly. Would it come into the cave? He knew he couldn't take that risk. Steven headed inside and carefully but quickly went deeper into the system trying to find Father. They would have to move again.

*                                              *                                              *

Vyollca barely took wing before the Destroyer popped out of the hole in the ground like a Wadan, a fine fat digger-food. She pressed back against the shadows of the bluff, hopefully hidden from his sight. She wasn't terribly worried. In this form, her scales were formidable armor and she could easily fly out of his reach. She knew how high the Destroyer could jump. He could clear treetops when motivated by the kill but still that could not compare with flight.

Vyollca understood the risk she was taking, stalking this most dangerous of prey. Her people might start wondering where she was and if she was coming back. But that was of secondary concern to her. There wasn't a female strong enough to challenge her. The true risk was getting caught unawares by the Destroyer.

Watching the Destroyer looking around, sniffing the air, she knew he might detect her. She wondered if those calling the Destroyer a male were correct. Males were strong but not as powerful or as deadly as a female. Everyone knew that. She didn't know what the Destroyer was. Maybe that's what the females of his species looked like.

Vyollca watched as the cold wind ruffled the Destroyer's ineffectual hair. Why he didn't have more adequate hair or scales she didn't know. He was so bare and pink, making him look soft and juicy. She wondered what he might taste like but she couldn't eat him. She wanted his power and she would have it no matter what.

She watched him go back in his hole and thought she read alarm in his eyes. Had he seen her tracks? Scented her? It was likely. She cursed her curiosity, that force that made her get too close to him. He would run now. She knew it. She didn't want to try and attack him in the caves. There was no room to maneuver. She didn't like her chances since she would have to revert to her smaller, more nimble Home-form. Her Fighting-form was too big to fit through most of the caverns and she had no light. The advantage would be all his inside the caverns.

That in mind, Vyollca settled down to watch the opening. Maybe she'd get lucky and he'd be back. If not, she would just bide her time. The Destroyer's movements were always noted if not by her people, then by those of other tribes. She would find him again. Nothing would stand in the way of her plans for him

Author's Note – All lines in Italics are from the Song of Songs


	3. Scent of Fear

CHAPTER THREE  
  
"Are you sure it's a Dragon, Steven?" Holtz reclined on a ledge of rock. Sweat beaded on his face, a result of him pulling himself up a deep drop off in the cave system. Spot lay at his feet.  
  
Steven nodded. "I saw the foot print."  
  
"Just one?" Holtz lips' puckered. "They usually travel in groups."  
  
Steven frowned. Did Father think he had forgotten? "I know but this time there is only the one," he insisted. "I don't know what it was doing. I didn't see more than the footprints."  
  
"I don't like this. If there are Dragons, we have to abandon the caves." Disappointment etched into Holtz's lined face as he hitched himself up.  
  
"But they don't like coming into the caves," Steven argued. He didn't want to quit a place of good shelter and relative warmth in the dead of winter.  
  
"But they can. We'll never find a way through fast enough to avoid them, if they follow us down here. As good as you are, Steven, a fight in the caverns is too dangerous."  
  
Steven nodded reluctantly. Father was right about that. There was no maneuvering room and it was too easy to hit his head on rock which might incapacitate him long enough to become Dragon food. "Agreed. But it's so cold outside. I'm afraid for you."  
  
Holtz smiled, leaning forward to pat his son's thin shoulder. "I'll fare better out there than we will if a Dragon catches us down here. I'm not important, Steven. We've had this discussion. The only truly important thing is for you to find your way back to your true father and make him pay for what he did to our family."  
  
Steven sighed. He knew he'd not win any arguments against that. Father had drilled that into him. Nothing would sway Father's beliefs. He headed back for their encampment. Spot pushed against his legs as he walked, trying to get him to pet her. He reached back and scratched her head. Just before he entered their living area, Steven stopped, holding up a hand to halt Holtz. Spot made a low rumbling noise that served as her warning. Her body puffed, making her armor plating more prominent. He took a deep breath in through his nose. "It's been here."  
  
"The Dragon?" Holtz whispered.  
  
Steven nodded. "Stay here."  
  
He drew his dagger and went into the cavern. Spot followed on his heels. He crept around the area looking around carefully. The Dragon was gone but things had been moved about. It had been searching for something, more unusual behavior. "It's clear, Father." Holtz came in cautiously. "It was here?"  
  
"It examined our things."  
  
Holtz's thick eyebrows rose. "That is most peculiar. I can't think of why one would do that." He stroked his beard, mulling over the revelation. "We have to leave now, Steven. Gather the necessities."  
  
They were ready to travel quickly. They lived their lives always expecting to have to flee. Steven was disappointed they could no longer make their way through the caves. The surface was dangerous, especially for Father, and particularly at this time of year. Father didn't bear up to the cold as well as he did.  
  
The sun had begun to set. Steven liked that less. They wouldn't be able to get far. Quor-Toth became even more deadly after dark. They would be lucky to make it to high ground before it would be too risky to travel. They spent the frigid night huddled in a shallow cave in the mountain, their bodies pressed together for warmth. Spot was closest to the opening. The beast was better adapted to the cold.  
  
In the morning before the weak sun rose, they started south, away from the usual lands of the Dragons. Steven saw how stiff Father was moving. He knew the cold had taken a toll. At least Dragons didn't hunt much in the day. They cast too big a shadow. They should have a good amount of time to travel unmolested.  
  
Father made them push hard through the thick snow. Spot harried a few small demons that charged their way. Steven heard Father wheezing as they struggled up a steep incline. Steven could bound easily from one bare tree to the other, swinging around them to help propel himself further upwards. Father, however, floundered on the ice, his breath dragging in and out so loudly Steven knew he was sending out a beacon to anything in hearing range.  
  
Steven hauled Holtz over a slick ledge. "Let's rest here, Father."  
  
"No, we need...to push on...we should...go..." Holtz broke off, panting.  
  
Seeing how red and sweaty Father's face was, Steven sat down stubbornly. "Rest. I need to see where we are, think about our next move."  
  
Holtz smiled at him, patting his son's head. "Just like a mule, you are." The older man sat wearily, trying to catch his breath.  
  
Steven dug in his carry-all and found a package of dried berries. He unwrapped the leather and shared them with Holtz. "We should change direction some." Steven pointed to a trail that didn't reach so high up in the mountains.  
  
Holtz shook his head. "No, it's a game trail. It's too well traveled. We're too likely to run into something."  
  
"The other way is too steep. It'll cost us too much time," Steven argued, canting his eyes up the mountain where it turned to little more than slick, bare rock.  
  
"What you mean is you don't think I can climb something that vertical," Holtz said then settled back against a tree. "And you might be right. I swear the very air here is against us. It's practically poisonous."  
  
Steven didn't argue that. There were days when the stuff Father called fog was so heavy and burning to their lungs, they had to wear mufflers over their face and stay inside. Father said he never used to get so tired back home. Steven believed him about that. He believed all of Father's stories about home. Those stories were one of the reasons he even bothered to learn the various demonic languages. He knew that one day he'd find the demons who knew the way back to Earth and he would force them to show him how that magic worked then he'd do good and fulfill his God-given destiny and destroy the monster who fathered him.  
  
"I think, if we go on that trail as much as we can before dark, then move off to a more sheltered place, we'll be all right. By tomorrow we can be in Neja."  
  
Holtz nodded. Neja was home to the Inieves, small but industrious demons, that for the most part, never troubled them. They were too afraid of the Destroyer. They were even afraid of Holtz himself. They could shelter with the Inieves if necessary. "Good, son. In a moment or two, I'll be ready to go."  
  
Steven nodded then froze. Something tickled his nose, a scent like carrion and decaying flowers. They weren't alone. He saw no shadows and heard nothing. Whatever it was, it was upwind from him. Father saw the sudden alertness fo his son and drew his knife. Steven felt something moving and looked up too late. The Dragon, in her humanoid form, dropped from the tree branches. She swung a club that caught Steven in the back of the head.  
  
His head snapped forward and he crashed headlong into the snow. Everything went dark and quiet. It lasted but a moment. He heard Father screaming but he could see nothing. It was like he had been blinded. He heard the subtle cracking sound the Dragon's shape shifting made and something stabbed into his shoulders, her talons no doubt. She lifted him up and Steven stabbed upwards with his dagger, blindly. It was wrested from his grip.  
  
Holtz couldn't believe how fast it happened. The Dragon had come from the one place they forgot to routinely check, above their heads. They hadn't been expecting her at mid-day or in her weaker form. Steven was down, blood spreading on the snow. As the Dragon began to change, he sent Spot after her. Holtz charged as well with his short sword but she completed her change before they could reach her. The Dragon whirled, it's tail catching Spot, flinging her into the tree. Then the beast flicked her head at him, the feather-like quills there tearing free. Holtz, too concerned with Steven, had forgotten Dragons could launch those things. He barely turned in time, several of them puncturing his face. Holtz went down, howling, clutching at his ruined flesh. All he could do was watch the Dragon haul off his son, still fighting. She soared back the way they had come.  
  
Holtz tried to get up and run but the pain was too much. The Dragon's quills had a mild toxin on them and he needed to get the quills out of him. He found one small silver plate he used as a mirror when necessary to treat wounds he couldn't quite see easily. He slowly pulled the quills free. Spot was limping when she finally returned from where she had been tossed. Holtz had several deep punctures on the right side of his face. He dressed them the best he could, then checked Spot for injuries. She had no open wounds and nothing seemed broken but she was obviously sore. Holtz knew he had no prayer of catching up to Steven now. Still, he gathered what he could of their belongings and headed for Dragon country. 


End file.
